Winter Chores
by cognomen
Summary: [LR: Licensed by Royalty] Jack and Rowe are nagged into putting up the christmas decorations. In the cold. MM


As soon as it got colder, Claire began to insist on decorating. And perhaps, it would have been for the best if Cloud 7's L/R had humored her earlier. Ishtar wasn't known for its gentle winters, and by the middle of the first week of December it had already snowed a little. Noelle had sent an excited letter asking them how they enjoyed the snow, and Jack had made a cheerful return while Rowe stayed indoors. In fact, he was huddled so close to Cloud House's fireplace that two tiny embers had burned holes in one of his 'best coats'.

It was the next day that Claire really got obstinate.

"Wouldn't the lights look good on all the snow!" She began first thing, when the two of them were eating breakfast. Jack looked up from the paper, and Rowe paused in his rushed consumption of toast, eggs and coffee. He swallowed before he spoke, careful of scolding about talking with his mouth full.

"You can't really mean for us to put them up in this weather?" The darker member of L/R sounded almost pleading.

"Well, if you don't do it now," Claire said, turning on her widest smile, attempting to use wiles on the lazier of Cloud 7's team. "It'll only get colder and more snowy!" She was the epitome of cheer. Rowe's expression sank further into hopelessness.

L and R both found themselves on the curb in front of Cloud House not ten minutes later. Accompanying them was a box that contained a mess of green garlands, strings of lights, perhaps a stray ornament or two for the tree that would occupy the main sitting room of Cloud House starting sometime in the next few weeks. There was a neat stack of two plain pine wreaths, adorned with red bows. One for the front door, and one to hang from the upper level.

Rowe had spent much of the prior 10 minutes arguing about it, and the rest of the time dressing up as if he were about to either climb Mt. Everest, or trek across one of the poles - whichever one you like. Half his face was hidden beneath a well-wound scarf, his mittened fingers pressed up against it to keep it over his nose and under the half-stern set of his eyes. "I hate the cold," he assessed of the whole situation.

Jack had finished with his papers, put on his leather jacket and pulled the gloves from his pockets to settle them snugly onto his hands. He was silent and thinking about the last time he'd seen Rowe out in such weather, but his expression betrayed nothing but a gentle smile. "Come now, Rowe. The less you complain the faster it'll be done."

Despite his reassurances, the lights came out of the box in a giant bundle. A cord end stuck out of the mess, one of six they would need to negotiate the tangle into three separate strands of lights. Rowe's impatience made the mess worse, and Jack sent him to wind the garland on the railings until he puzzled out the mass of cords.

He had just pulled one free, settling it in a tidy coil on the sidewalk, when Claire poked her head out the front door. Rowe was adjusting the coils of garland to make them more or less even before he tidied up the end.

"How's it going, boys?" She was smiling. Rowe was pretty sure he would shortly be unable to feel his toes.

"Fine Claaaaaaire," He drawled, and reached up to tug his scarf down. Each intake of breath was freezing the condensation from his lungs back onto his nose and lips. He tugged the garland into place at last, and hefted a wreath. "Jack was just telling me about the origins of something horribly boring." He considered the door.

"Wassailing," Jack interjected, leather covered hands separating the second chain of Christmas lights from the third.

"Keep up the good work!" The young Ms. Pennylane dissappeared back into the house. Team L/R decided that they would negotiate the wreath onto the second floor before they put up the lights. Rowe clambered up onto the overhang with a boost from Jack. Neither would be the first to admit to humming cheery christmas jingles while their fingers slowly began to lose feeling.

Humming gave way to all-out singing on the part of the brunette member of L/R. Where he didn't know the words, he made up his own. One or two time honored Christmas carols gained verses about wearing more than one pair of socks, lights not hanging properly, and snow being the most wretched plague wrought upon humanity. Jack finally joined in to keep him somewhat on track as far as traditional lyrics. On the Fourth day of Christmas, it began to snow.

Five Golden Rings came around, and a big, fat snowflake landed on Rowe's red and numb nose. He smeared it off with a mitten, and tacked up the end of his string of lights before he complained. "Jack, I'm frozen. That took -all- day." He stepped back from the wall, and the scattered flakes began to turn to something more serious.

Rowe discovered Jack was watching the sky. Curious, he came over to look up at what the fairer member of L/R was seeing. Snowflakes danced through the blackening sky, whirling and skating their intricate ballets until they hit the pavement.

Rowe stuck his hands up the back of Jack's coat. He was lucky, he got them inside his partner's shirt, too, before the taller man could move away. Jack hissed, and smiled, turned around to dislodge the icy digits from his skin. "I'm not much warmer, I'm afraid."

Snow was catching in Rowe's lashes, and catching Jack's attention, too. The last time it had snowed gently like this, he'd almost lost his partner. Months of bandages and rehab had passed since then, but Jack still reached out, put his gloved hands on Rowe's longjohned-shirted-sweatered-jacketbuttonedtohischin covered chest. Felt him breathing, there, alive. Rowe's hands found cold-crinkly leather, gripped it with mitten paws, and pulled Jack closer. A kiss was shared, cold lips on cold lips. Steamy breath mingled in the crisp smell of cold and wood burning somewhere, winter all around. Maybe it was the spirit of the season that drew them close in public, neither protesting that someone else might see.

Rowe was just starting to feel warmer when the lights they'd just finished hanging clicked on behind them. Both heads snapped around, almost startled, and they shifted apart. It was almost guilty, though neither surrendered their hold fully. Rowe kept his arm slung around Jack's shoulders, and Jack kept his arm around Rowe's waist as they looked up at the thousand tiny, white stars that shone out from Cloud House for the season. Claire stood in the door, positively mischevous, a steaming mug in each hand.

"Nice work boys," She smiled, holding the door as they shuffled in, Rowe stomping snow from his boots and wincing as his feet sprung up pins and needles. "I promise, no more chores until they have to come down again!"

Rowe made a noise that could have been a sob or a laugh. 


End file.
